The Kiss
by Spherrow
Summary: Valentine's Day revisited. ...'“Thank you.” This close, I didn’t have to say it loudly. Perhaps I said it with more emotion than I intended, but the thought was there. What I meant by ‘thank you’ really, was ‘I love you.’'


**Author's Note: **This story is dedicated to Aquara of FrankyHouse. She requested a story, and thus I produce.

Timeline: This story covers Ren and Kyoko's portion of Chapter 148, 149, and 150 then continues on from there.

**DISCLAIMER:** Skip Beat! and it's characters are not my original creation, they are owned and created by Nakamura Yoshiki.

***

_She has a freckle. On her cheek, right beside her ear, straight over from her nose. How cute._

I covered the freckle with my lips and kissed it as if it were a lucky charm. Should I pull away now, and see the look of horror on her face, I might die, but if I should pull away and see wonder on her face, I might die HAPPY.

Either way, there was no going back now. A single kiss on the cheek could only last so long, and I was well devouring that time. The light scent of lavender sweetened the air around her. The scent of her shampoo certainly. It smelled good. She smelled good.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, languishing in those last moments of insanity before I pulled away and looked at her face to see what luck befell me.

***

It was unexpected, to say the least.

I hadn't looked at him in that way before. No… that isn't entirely true. I had looked. I had HAD to look. His features… his muscles… his bone structure… I memorized each and every detail, and honestly, I relished in it. I had never thought it would get to such a point though where dream became reality.

What was I to do? I was unprepared. I couldn't think and I was shocked, so I froze.

As he drew nearer, I started to notice things I had missed before. Like the very fine blond hairs that shone golden in his chestnut-with-highlights hair, or the woody scent of his cologne. These weren't things I could add to my dolls. Well, the hair maybe, but certainly not the warm scent of his cologne'd skin.

It reminded me of every time he had held me in his arms. Comfort. Strength. Warmth. Protection. If you could bottle his scent, those would be the ingredients.

No, I didn't want to share that feeling with anyone. Call me greedy, for that's what it was. I did not want to share that sensation with anyone. I didn't want to share THIS sensation with anyone.

His lips met my cheek right at my ear. The breath escaping his nose tickled the small hairs in my ear, making it itch a little, but not enough to shake me from my stupor.

He was so gentle, and his lips were soft on my skin. I wondered for a moment if I tasted like the make-up that was caked to my face for the cameras, but as he inhaled deeply, my brain stopped.

***

I could have pulled away first, but it was hard enough just to not kiss her again. The soft peach fuzz of her cheek rubbed gently against my own cheek as I slid back from her to stop but an inch from her face.

I couldn't focus on anywhere but her eyes. The were wide and wild and panicked. Did she realize what I just did? More importantly, did she just realize what I DIDN'T do?

Did she see how much I kept myself in check?

"Thank you." This close, I didn't have to say it loudly. Perhaps I said it with more emotion than I intended, but the thought was there. What I meant by 'thank you' really, was 'I love you.'

Thank you, president, for teaching me some modicum of self restraint. If not for you, who knows what I actually might have said. Done.

Now I just had to get out of there before I lost all composure. But damn, it was difficult.

I put my knee down on the floor to steady myself as I withdrew my arms from around her small frame. I admit, it was intentional as my hand brushed against her bare arm. I could not resist. I had just kissed her, and she had not shrieked or screamed or tried to pull away. Maybe I was feeling brave. Yes, it was just a kiss on the cheek disguised as a thank you, but sometimes you have to accept small victories where you can get them.

I left her there, frozen on the couch, conflicted at my own actions. I hadn't followed through with my original plan, so why did I feel … dirty? Tarnished. Somehow… less of a man.

***

Not enough time. There just wasn't enough time! I couldn't get my brain to stop playing the scene over and over in my head. He reached across me, leaned in, when I thought he'd stop, he came closer. Inches away, then an inch, then a centimeter. So shocked, I couldn't move. Then, he went past. I didn't know what he was doing, but the moment his lips grazed my skin… that was it.

My brain ceased to function, and I was stuck in this never ending loop of embarrassment, and heat. The feel of his lips on my cheek lingered. His scent still filled my nostrils. I could still feel the warm breath as it passed over my skin and tickled my ear.

It wasn't right. This was NOT an emotion Mio was supposed to feel. I kept trying to shake the sensations from my head, but everything reminded me of him. Of his kiss. The wine glass on set on the Maitre d's tray. The floral arrangement on the banister of the set for the mansion. Even Mizuki's 'thank you' line. Like some poison, his presence filled my every waking moment, unbidden.

I had to have been such a burden to the rest of the crew. NG after NG. Retake after retake. It's no wonder Director Ogata told me to take a little time to try and figure out myself why I kept freezing in my lines. I knew why, but I couldn't say anything.

***

I never wanted this to happen. I never intended to hurt her in any way. Maybe it wasn't physical pain, but she was clearly agonizing over the little kiss.

It wasn't fair. Then again, the world isn't fair. I'd already known this for a long time. I just wanted a little piece of happiness for myself. I wanted to make her focus on me for a little. Realize that I'm alive, a man, and right in front of her, waiting for her to see me. Silently begging for her to love me.

Sometimes I feel so pathetic. I really don't deserve her. No, I know my real goal was to erase HIM from her mind. I knew I could overwrite her memory of what he did to her. I just didn't realize it would be so simple. I chickened out of my own plan at the last minute, but the desired effect was the same. No, the desired effect was even greater than I had ever imagined.

So much greater, that it was hurting her as an actress. I must admit, I relish to know that the crimson tinting her ears and neck was caused by me and me alone. The impairment it caused her though was causing her such duress. I caved. My resolve crumbled like blue cheese.

I gave up my one victory, all for her sake.

***

As if I couldn't hear him. He was right behind me! Okay, so I admit, at first I thought it was my own memories of his voice resounding in my head, but when I heard him say my name the second time, I couldn't find the courage to turn around and look at him. I knew he was there though. Muttering.

Muttering his disappointment of me. Of how I reacted to his simple kiss on the cheek. What was I supposed to do though!? I'm Japanese after all! Raised in a traditional Japanese household. Of COURSE I have traditional values! You can't just go kissing people willy-nilly and expect them to think it's normal!

Maybe I DID glare at him too harshly. Judge him too harshly for it, but after he stood there and scolded me for not being professional about it, then so falsely accepted the blame back when I called him on it… He deserved everything that came next.

I insulted him. Called him a playboy. He tried to defend himself, but his reasoning vacillated at best. Kissing, a common 'thank-you' in the modeling world? Don't make me laugh. Even in the United States, they don't kiss so carefree like that. Not to coworkers. Not even most friends! Fibs. Just like a con artist, and I told him so. Con artists are known to be suave and dashing. It helps them get their way.

It gave me more to think about though, and got my brain started again. I guess that's what he was trying to do after all anyway. Maybe he is a playboy and a con artist, but I suppose I'm grateful.

***

Con artist. That's right. She can't handle such small affection, and so she calls ME the con artist. Isn't that projecting her own self onto someone else? She's the one who's trying to fool everyone and rise to the top with intent just to beat HIM at his own game.

I'm sure she hasn't forgotten her original goal, however much I may wish it. Yes, she has a new respect for her job and actors in general, but she can be pretty one-track minded. If only I could get her to forget him for good. Give her new purpose for doing well as an actress. She really is amazing.

I watched her for the rest of the day. I guess the term would be glowing. Yeah, she was glowing. She had a renewed fierceness in her eyes, and she was able to focus on her role. Maybe she hadn't forgotten about him, but at least for the day she wasn't thinking only of him, as she had been originally.

Why the hell did he have to ruin it for me? Valentine's day in Japan is a lady's holiday, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hold some joy for me still. In the past, it was only about commercial things. Trivial really. A lady friend and I would go out for dinner, her choice of course, then convene the evening back at her apartment or at a hotel. Never would I take them to my apartment if I could help it. Things just never… progressed to the point where I felt comfortable opening myself up to them like that.

Nothing was ever out of place, I made sure of that, and my old wallet was always well hidden in the shoebox in the bottom of my closet in the bedroom. I hadn't taken it out to look at it in years even. There just was never that… level of comfort there.

Maybe all those old relationships really were purely about physical "love" rather than emotion.

With her though… with her it was different. Even just the thought of her THINKING about another man was enough to drive me mad. She wasn't mine, yet she knew me better than anyone, and she hardly knew me at all. I let her into my apartment, and felt that I always would freely. What was it about her that allowed her to wedge herself so deeply in my heart?

She was special. That much was certain.

I wanted her like I had never wanted anything before. Love me. Just love only me. Stay with me. Be with me.

I could almost see myself begging to her those very words. Would it frighten her? I bet it would.

***

The rest of the day went smoothly. I couldn't figure out for the life of me what Yashiro-san's issue was though. He kept giving me weird, accusatory looks. I did nothing wrong. I know this.

It was strange too, how he refused to leave the car when Ren stopped the car outside of his flat. Usually, he seemed grateful to be home and done with another long day.

It never occurred to me that he was concerned.

***

I practically had to forcibly remove him from the car. What, did he think his presence would prevent me from doing anything? Like I would do anything anyway.

That wasn't part of the plan anyway.

That is, it wasn't part of the plan until the plan ran out, and she was still at my apartment.

***

I offered to cook him dinner. If it was anyone's fault, it was my own. He almost never eats though, and what he does eat is all junk. There is NO nutritious value in that prepackaged junk you buy at the convenience store, and he practically lived off that crap.

I asked what he might like to eat. I swear he constantly picks strange and difficult things just to scare me or challenge me. Well, crepes are not that difficult. Surprise surprise.

It did surprise me though that he chose strawberries and chocolate for his toppings. I always thought he didn't much care for sweets. I suppose, as they say, everything is good in moderation. Well, maybe not frog legs.

As I placed the plates on the kotatsu I was shocked when he pulled out two glasses from the liquor cabinet. I wasn't a drinker, and I was under age. What did he need two glasses for?

It came as yet another surprise when he opened a bottle of a light amber liquid, poured two flukes, then handed one to me and held the other up to the light.

I tried to tell him I didn't drink, but he insisted. "Happy Valentine's Day" and he clinked glasses with me.

It would have been an insult NOT to drink, right?

***

I really was shocked when she tipped the glass to her mouth and took a sip. I expected her to put up a bigger fuss. She was always so proper. That was one of her good points though. It was cute how adamant she usually was about doing what was right and good for your body.

It's a wonder she hasn't raided my liquor cabinet and dumped it all actually. If she knew how frequently I substituted a glass of scotch for a meal, she would have destroyed it all long ago.

***

The bubbles tickled my nose as they jumped from the sweet liquid as I tipped the fluke. The flavor was rich, and if colors had taste, this would definitely be a gold. Not because of the color, but because it was light and tangy and sweet all at once. There was a light hint that it was alcoholic, but it was not overwhelming. A perfect drink for someone who does not care much for the taste of most alcohols.

It went down smoothly. So smoothly, I did not realize I had emptied the fluke. It was refilled by the time we sat down to partake in the crepes.

I had never seen him eat so heartily. Even other meals I cooked that he said were good. Maybe he really did like crepes.

***

Actually, I had never had them before. I was surprised to find how light they were. I wouldn't call them an actual meal, but it seemed more like a desert anyway. Strange. That would make two deserts I had in one day.

I smiled at her. She had managed to accomplish something no one else had ever done. She found me a favorite food.

Their sweetness was perfectly countered by the freshness of strawberries and the slight bitterness of the dark chocolate. Maybe it wasn't a perfectly nutritious meal, but with her sitting across from me, the meal was perfect.

***

I should never have had that second glass of Champaign. What am I saying? I should never have had the first!

Now I know better. Well, though, I guess it doesn't really matter anymore.

It had me giddy and giggling. If I had had better control of myself, I might not have tried to force feed him.

***

She stabbed her fork into a strawberry and gently swirled it in the chocolate pooling on the plate. When she lifted the fork, chocolate threatened to drip from the fruit. She didn't notice. I saw it sliding down the moist surface. If I didn't open my mouth for it and accept it, there would have been dark chocolate staining my cream colored carpet. From what I remember, chocolate stains.

I wasn't completely quick enough though, and the chocolate drip slid off the strawberry and landed on the corner of my mouth rather than safely contained inside.

I reached for the napkin beside my plate, but there was no need.

She had leaned forward and actually licked the chocolate from my chin. I was stupefied.

***

I can't really say what I was thinking. I don't think I WAS thinking. I was overcome from the Champaign. That's my only excuse. I could claim that I don't remember anything, but in truth, how he looked at me that moment made me remember EVERYTHING that had ever happened between the two of us up until that moment.

His scent, his warmth, his extra care. His smile. Even his anger and disappointment.

It should NOT have taken getting me drunk to realize that while I verbally and mentally told myself I would never fall in love again, I already had.

***

What could I do? I kissed her.

She was so close already, and if you could lay the blame somewhere, I'd have pointed my finger at her. She was the one feeding me aphrodisiacs – the strawberries that is. She was the one leaning so close. She was the one who had licked the corner of my mouth.

Maybe she WASN'T begging for it, but the desire was there, the moment was right, and I really just could not control myself.

So yes, I closed the distance and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. It was about as much self control as I could muster. Then that slight control broke, and I reached for her.

Her hair was so soft and smelled as sweetly as earlier that day. Her scents filled my senses, and while I was trying to stay in control, she tested the limits. Her petite hands reached for me and landed on either side of my face.

She kissed me back. Oh God, but she was kissing me back!

***

I couldn't resist myself. He knew I had no experience, but I was still embarrassed. Even through my somewhat-drunken-ness. I felt clumsy, but I wanted to kiss him. Everyone had to have a first, right? He would forgive me my ineptitude for sure.

***

My lips tingled at her light movements, as if she were afraid to cut my lip on her teeth. I let her know she could be more firm the best way I could. I deepened the kiss. I tangled my fingers in her hair and drew her in to me. She was leaning over toward me, but though she was on her knees, her face was still at the right height to meet my own, and when I pulled her to me, she lost her balance and fell against me.

I held her there. I don't remember when I moved, but the next thing I knew, I had guided her to the floor and was crushing the air from her as I slid my tongue between her lips and into her mouth.

She made a soft squeaking noise in surprise. It only egged me on.

I don't think I could have stopped now even if she had tried to push me away.

***

In truth, I didn't want him to either. I didn't want him to stop. The weight of him on top of me forced the air from my lungs and made me light headed. It was a dizzying effect when paired with the Champaign, and to say I wasn't drunk would be a lie.

I won't blame the alcohol for my actions, but I will blame it for my delayed reactions. He had his hand up my shirt before I realized what was going on.

He moved the weight of his body off of me though, and I could breath again, though the tingling and little electric jolts where his fingers ran sent my head spinning. There was always a bit of a prickle when it got cold and the shirt was too thin to keep me warm, but to think that the feel of his hands running over my breasts would make me tremble so… It was a new sensation that wasn't entirely unpleasant. It wasn't unpleasant at all actually, and it heated my cheeks and made me pulsate at a point lower on my body that I never knew could react like that.

I could only whimper as the sensations shook my body and he moved to do more.

***

I had a momentary thought of "will she hate me in the morning?" but at that moment, I don't think I cared. She was in my arms. The small sounds slipping from her throat were because of what I was doing to her. Me. No one else. I had to be her first.

The thought drove me to more, and eventually, the thought was no more, as there was only that sensation we CHOOSE to loose ourselves in. I had never known it could be that good. Especially with someone so inexperienced.

I have to say I'm grateful she was drunk though. If she hadn't been, she would probably have not slept as long as she did. I wouldn't have gotten to watch her as her eyes fluttered open in the morning with my arm around her, the two of us naked on the living room carpet.

I wouldn't have gotten to watch as the sudden horror dawned on her of what we had done.

And I wouldn't have gotten to watch as the horror melted away when my words registered in her mind.

I had finally told her that I love her.

She didn't run away, but she flushed as cutely as ever. I kissed her then and refused to let her get up until she promised she would join me in the bedroom later.

I got up then and helped her clean up our dishes from the night before. I looked around and was glad to find we hadn't spilled even a drop of chocolate on the carpet.

I still had to rearrange the furniture though. I was her first, and evidently, blood stains worse than chocolate.


End file.
